


The Laundry Room

by domini_porter



Series: Scenes from Domestic Life [9]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15844128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_porter/pseuds/domini_porter





	The Laundry Room

"I didn't  _mean_  to get it all over you," Jane sighed.

Maura rolled her eyes and shook her head, scrubbing at the thick white stain on her sleeve. "You just meant to get a  _little_  bit on me?"

Jane sighed again. "Okay, I didn't mean to get  _any_  of it on you." She frowned. "Will it come out?"

Maura shrugged. "Possibly. If I can treat it in time."

"Sweater triage, huh?"

Maura smiled despite herself. She scrubbed at the stain, extending from cuff to elbow, and shook her head again.

Jane folded her arms.

"Okay, wait, hold on,  _you're_  the one who thought paper maché would be a fun Sunday activity."

"It's  _papier-mâché_ , and it  _was_  a fun Sunday activity until it ended up all over the dining room," Maura said, running cold water in the sink. "Honestly, Jane, it wasn't even a spider."

"It  _looked_  like a spider," Jane said defensively. "And last time there was a spider  _you_  said 'get a bowl,' and there was a bowl right there—"

"—a bowl filled with flour and water, and there  _wasn't even a spider_."

"It was only half-filled," Jane pouted. "And I cleaned it up. Well," she said, "except for the sweater. 'Cause I would totally destroy it if I tried."

"Probably," Maura agreed. "Though it's all right, I don't really care for this sweater, which is why I wore it for this activity. But I must admit I do enjoy hand-washing garments on occasion."

"You would," Jane mumbled.

"I find it relaxing."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"And anyway, I hardly get the opportunity any more," Maura said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

Jane tried to suppress a snicker. "It must be terrible, not even being able to find the time to hand-wash your garments."

Maura ignored her.

"All right," Jane sighed. "I give. Why don't you get the opportunity?"

"It's just . . . well, Angela does most of my laundry-"

"What?" Jane cried. "You've got my mother doing your laundry?"

"Of course not, Jane!" Maura replied. "In fact, I—I wish she wouldn't."

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Jane grumbled.

"She just . . . does it. She's very good, I mean, but . . . still." Maura dropped the sweater into the sink filled with cold water. "It's a little unnerving to think of someone I know personally washing my clothes. It's one thing to take them to the cleaners, but it's . . . your mother."

"I could tell her to stop?" Jane shrugged.

"Oh no!" Maura said quickly. "Please don't. I don't want to offend her by refusing her kindness."

"No wonder she loves you so much," Jane said. "You're like, the perfect daughter  _and_  the perfect houseguest and it's not even  _her house_."

Maura blushed the way she always did when someone complimented her. Jane grinned the way she always did at the sight.

"I'm glad Angela is happy here," Maura said, almost shyly. "She seems to be, but I'm never entirely sure, especially because of, well . . ."

"Because of how you're standing at the laundry room sink with no shirt on and I'm about to take advantage of that?" Jane said, hooking her thumbs in her pockets.

"Jane," Maura gasped, "did you get papier-mâché paste all over me just to take advantage of me in the laundry room?"

"Nah, that's just a bonus." Jane smiled crookedly, sidling over to the sink.

Maura looked at her out of the corner of her eye, a sly grin pulling at the side of her mouth. She lifted the sweater from the sink and wrung it out carefully, draping it on a nearby drying rack.

Jane watched the lean muscles in Maura's arms and back flex as she squeezed out the water, smiling appreciatively. She slid her hand around Maura's waist, delighting in the softness of her skin. Maura shivered and turned to face her.

"Do you think the sweater's going to make it?" Jane whispered, her tone deeply serious.

"I think so," Maura replied. "I think I got to it in time.  _Your_  shirt, on the other hand—"

"What's wrong with my shirt?"

"Aside from the color?"

Jane wrinkled her nose. "Yes, Mr. Blackwell, aside from the color."

"Well," Maura murmured, "it's got this terrible stain on it."

"What? Where?" Jane glanced down at herself, frowning.

"Right, um . . ." Maura looked straight into Jane's eyes as she slowly pulled her thumb across her lower lip then pressed it to Jane's shirt, leaving a faint pinkish spot. "There."

Jane gulped.

"Uh-oh," she whispered, her throat dry. "I should probably take care of that before it sets, huh."

"Oh Jane," Maura sighed, looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "You'll ruin it if you try to do it."

"So you're saying I should call my mother?" Jane grinned.

"No, let's not bother her," Maura breathed as she reached up and slipped the first button free. "Why don't you let me take care of it? You know I don't mind."

"Okay," Jane said.

Maura slipped the second button free, then slid her fingers under the edge of Jane's shirt, letting them brush lightly across Jane's skin.

It was Jane's turn to shiver.

Maura worked slowly through the buttons, pausing at each one to run her fingers lightly across each new area of skin as it was exposed. Jane's breath was shallow, her hands unconsciously grasping at Maura's waist as Maura touched her.

"All right," Maura whispered when she'd run out of buttons, "let's get it wet."

Jane couldn't stop the groan from slipping out of her mouth.

"What?" Maura asked innocently, blinking up at her.

"I  _know_  you know what you're saying sometimes," Jane muttered. "Was this one of those times?"

"Take your shirt off," Maura said, by way of answer.

Jane gulped. She released Maura's waist and slid the shirt off her arms.

"Now what?"

"Now take the little brush next to the sink and dip it in the water," Maura said, pressing herself against Jane's back, sliding her hand down Jane's arm, guiding Jane's hand with her own. Maura smiled as she felt goosebumps raising on Jane's skin, her pulse quickening.

Her lips brushed against Jane's shoulder as she spoke. "Now scrub at the affected area.  _Gently_ ," she murmured, running her fingertips over the back of Jane's hand as Jane started to work the brush furiously. She smiled again as she felt Jane's sharp intake of breath, her shuddering exhalation.

"I never thought I'd appreciate stain removal so much," Jane said.

"You see what I mean?"

"Wait, how many peoples' stains have you been helping to remove?" Jane turned to look at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Just yours," Maura grinned. "I don't even get to handle my  _own_  dirty laundry, remember?"

"All right," Jane said slowly, turning back to the sink. Maura kept one hand resting lightly on top of Jane's, the other running up and down Jane's side.

"And anyway," Maura murmured as her fingers ran down the faint xylophone of Jane's ribs, "I'm a little hurt that you think I'd be leaving my lipstick on anyone else's collar. Especially this one," she said, slipping her hand down Jane's stomach, toying with her belt buckle. "The color's been discontinued."

Jane snorted and shook her head. "Well I'm glad you think highly enough of me to ruin my shirt with it."

"Oh, did that offend you?" Maura asked. She pulled back slightly, suddenly concerned.

"No," Jane said, "of course not. I hate this shirt, that's why I wore it for paper maché."

" _Papier-mâché_ ," Maura sighed, resuming her manipulation of Jane's belt. "Ah," she said delightedly as she worked it loose. She felt Jane's heart beating wildly and bit her lip, pleased.

"How does that look?" Jane asked raggedly, holding the shirt up for Maura to inspect.

"Hmm," Maura said, pressing close against Jane to get a better look. "Fine work, Detective. You're sure to make Lieutenant any day now if this is the sort of diligence you bring to even mundane domestic tasks."

"Thank you, Doctor, but I doubt you'll always be there to . . . uh . . . have my back in such a . . . uh . . . such a literal . . ." she drifted off as Maura deftly unhooked the waist and slipped her hand inside Jane's trousers.

"You should probably set your shirt out to dry," Maura murmured, moving the hand resting on top of Jane's to her waist, sliding it across Jane's skin to cup her breast.

Jane pushed her hips back against Maura, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips. Maura grinned and kissed Jane's shoulder as she slipped her hand inside Jane's bra, smiling wider as Jane gasped and squirmed at her touch.

The shirt slipped to the ground, forgotten.

Jane gripped the edge of the sink as Maura pushed her hand between her legs.

"I should really spill things on you more often," she breathed.

"I think you manage to do it quite often enough," Maura replied, pulling her hands free. Jane whimpered slightly.

"I'm sorry?" she said, turning around. She shrugged. "I'm clumsy?"

"It's all right," Maura whispered, running her fingers from the hollow of Jane's throat down her body. She hooked Jane's waistband and tugged, Jane's trousers sliding off her hips. "I forgive you."

"Thanks," Jane gasped as Maura leaned in and kissed Jane's throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

"Mm-hmm."

Maura continued leaving a trail of soft kisses down Jane's skin, her hands sliding down Jane's body as she made her descent.

Jane leaned back against the sink, holding it tightly and tipping her head back as Maura knelt between her knees.

"You didn't hang up your shirt," Maura murmured against the soft skin of Jane's inner thigh, causing her to shiver.

"I'll get it in a minute," she stammered.

"You think this will only take a minute?" Maura said, looking up at Jane. "Well, I  _suppose_  I could abridge—"

"No," Jane said quickly, "no abridging. Nobody's abridging anything here."

"Then you should hang up your shirt before you have to wash it again."

"Maura, come on, you could eat off the floor in here."

"Hmm," she murmured.

Jane blushed scarlet though she wasn't entirely sure if it was because she realized what Maura's  _hmm_  meant or because Maura's mouth was doing dizzying things to her. Her knees buckled and she caught herself on the edge of the sink, arching against Maura.

Maura pulled away abruptly, making Jane groan. "What?"

She held up Jane's shirt expectantly.

"Are you serious," Jane breathed. Maura cocked her eyebrow. Jane grabbed the shirt and flung it onto the rack with Maura's sweater. "Okay," she mumbled, "will you please keep doing what you were doing?"

"If you leave it like that you'll have to iron it," Maura sighed. "But if you're interested, I could give you a few pointers."

"I don't know if I've quite got the hang of getting rid of lipstick stains quite yet," Jane said. "I should probably get a . . . uh, a firm grip on that before I move on to ironing."

"I completely agree," Maura said, directing Jane's hips back against the sink. "I'd certainly be a poor teacher if I moved to a more advanced subject before I knew you were satisfied with your experience of the basics."

"Um," Jane said, blushing more deeply. She chewed on her lip, biting back a grin.

"Now I know you suggested one could eat off the floor in here," Maura ran her hands up and down Jane's legs. "But I'm sure the chemical residues from the detergents alone would—"

"Gross, Maura," Jane groaned. "Residues? Really?"

"You'll have to hold yourself up, is what I was getting at," Maura sighed against her skin, causing Jane to inhale sharply.

"Oh," Jane mumbled. "Okay." She held tightly to the edge of the sink again, her eyes sliding closed as Maura resumed her position between Jane's knees.

"Jane," Maura whispered.

"Yes," Jane whispered back.

"We're still going to finish that piñata for Korsak's niece."

"After we iron that shirt," Jane breathed. "I promise."


End file.
